Untitled or Murphy's Law
by freelancetada
Summary: Greg has a horrible morning, and according to Murphy's Law, it can only get worse, right?
1. Chapter 1

((disclaimer: I do not own CSI or its characters.

AN: sorry this first chapter is so short, but I hope you like it! =] ))

This was already turning out to be a bad day.

First, the hot water was out when Greg had taken his shower before work. He was still cold, he noticed, even in the heat of his car: which had also refused to start so he had to get Nick to drop by to help get it running again. The texan had chuckled at the younger man when he arrived.

"What's so funny?" Greg asked grumpily as he hopped off the hood of his car.

"You just reminded me of good 'ol Chuck, that's what." Nick grinned.

He raised an eyebrow. "Charlie Brown?" He questioned, annoyed.

Nick the mimicked the glum position Greg had been in earlier, sitting on the car, elbows on knees and hands supporting head.

"Thanks, Nick." Greg added with a roll of his eyes. "Just help me start the car, okay?" He added with a sarcastic and exasperated tone.

And so they got the car started, eventually. Greg was complaining, of course, but who wouldn't be? Especially after he spilled his coffee after Nick drove off to work ahead of him. "Murphy's Law, I despise you." He muttered as he headed to the crime lab.

He pushed the doors of the crime lab open and stomped to the break room. Maybe Catherine would be there and would be able to tell him how to get coffee stains out of his shirt. He sighed. It was dry already. "Well, good morning sunshine." A voice said. Greg turned his head to see none other than Sara Sidle.

"Morning." He responded lamely, putting on a pot of coffee. Sara frowned slightly, and then smirked as she noticed how strong he was brewing his Blue Hawaiian. "You want some water with your coffee?" She smiled, and saw no response. "Rough night?" She added, to which he shook his head.

"More like a rough morning." Greg answered as he pressed the button to brew the coffee. "First, all my hot water was gone. Which is really nice, by the way. My car didn't start, I spilled coffee on myself...and now I have to work." He ended this with a bitter little smile.

"So how are we really?" Sara asked sarcastically, and saw his frown. "C'mon, Greg. Cheer up, it's only Tuesday."

"What?" He turned to look at her, his brown eyes surprised and wide. "It's not Wednesday?"

"Nope. Hump day is tomorrow." She said with a smirk.

"Sara, I don't have time to make that into an inappropriate joke. I'm late on a case!" Greg said, getting his coffee and pouring some into a thermos. He then ran out of the room.

"Feel better!" Sara called as he left, and then tried the coffee, making a face. "He must really be tired." She muttered, tossing the batch.


	2. Chapter 2

"We've got a male, about 35, looks like a gunshot wound. His two kids are in their rooms, and they were also killed. It's brutal, so be aware." The other CSI told Greg Sanders as they arrived on the scene. Greg tightened his grip on his kit, his knuckles turning white as they headed into the house. He always hated the overly gruesome homicides, and this was no exception. In fact, it might have been the worst.

Greg could smell the scene before he saw it, and when he did, he physically grimaced and set his jaw as to not start freaking out. "Oh geez." His eyes fell upon the man who had been shot several times, lying in a pool of his own dried blood. The man's blue eyes were opened, and he saw that they were glazed over, with no pupil. He had been strangled first. He took out his kit and opened it, kneeling next to the body. He got a few samples, while avoiding the deadly gaze. "I'll go into the bedrooms...you finish this." He told another CSI. "Be careful, Sanders. The building's not too stable. Cops think it was an attempted arson coverup as well."

Greg nodded solemnly and sighed before he headed into the rooms. That CSI was a fairly new one, and he didn't want to send him into a scene with dead children in it. "Jesus..." He mumbled as he saw the bodies. It was the most gruesome scene. He took out the camera and took some shots, not wanting to look at this, his brows knitting together in concentration as he breathed through his mouth. He gathered some samples, and stood up. "What was she, ten?" Another voice asked. Greg shook his head, and David sighed. "I always hate these kind of cases..." Greg nodded. "Yeah...me, too..." He noticed David getting ready to load the childrens' bodies. He spoke quickly. "Hey, I need to get a few more shots of the scene...I'm going to need a minute."

"Sure thing", David replied, respectfully ducking out of the the room. Greg got a few more shots of the scene and then kneeled next to the younger of the children, the boy. "We're going to find out who did this to you..." He said quietly, and heard a noise from the closet. He cautiously walked toward it, and opened it. Inside sat a little girl, maybe 7 years old, cut up and bruised. "We need a paramedic!" He called and the little girl jumped slightly. The CSI tried to rewind. He looked at the little blonde girl, and tried to remember how to deal with this situation.

Greg held out his hand. "Hey, are you okay? I'm a crime scene investigator...Greg Sanders" He told the frightened child. "Are you alright?" He mentally kicked himself. Of course she wasn't all right. The girl nodded, tears pouring out of her large brown eyes, and took his hand. He led her out of the room so that she wouldn't see the bodies of her family.

"Take her to the mother after the medics take a look at her." Greg instructed someone, but the girl clung to him. "No..." She cried, and Greg kneeled down. "You don't want to see your mother?" He asked, and she shook her head violently. "She---she hurt them." The girl cried. He frowned; he couldn't imagine what she had seen. "Don't worry...", he stood up as the paramedics retrieved the little girl who glanced back every now and then at Greg, her eyes full of fright. He sighed and left the scene to get some evidence to trace.


	3. Chapter 3

Greg entered through the doors of the Las Vegas Crime Lab, his face set in a serious expression. He did this to keep people from asking him what they always did: 'hey, Greg, are you okay?' He was tired of hearing it, really he was. It wasn't like they genuinely wanted to know what was bothering him. They just stuck around for the 'yeah, I'm fine' before continuing on with their night. Walking into the break room, he spotted Nick sitting and trying to finish a report while drinking coffee.

"You know, you could just choose the coffee, right?" Greg asked as Nick spilled some on his report, cursing quietly.

"Yes. I know, Greg." The other man responded as the first crashed onto a chair, tired. "I heard about your case. Tough, man."

"Tell me about it...a family gets murdered and a little girl saw the whole thing." Greg agreed, and rubbed his hands over his face. "How does a kid get over that?" He asked, as Sara walked in. He turned toward the footsteps and smiled a little. "Hey, Sar."

She smiled back slightly, grabbing some coffee as well. After taking a sip, she grimaced and the two men nodded knowingly. "That's disgusting." She stated, discarding the cup before taking a seat across from Nick and to the left of Greg.

Sara noticed Greg's demeanor, and raised an eyebrow, looking to Nick, who mouthed 'his case'. Even with Greg's head leaning on his hands, he noticed it. "Yeah, I have a tough case, but you guys probably have a tough one, too."

"B&E."

"Just some stupid teenagers." Sara added to Nick's response.

"One of them thought wearing winter gloves would hide prints."

"And it would have worked if he had kept them on his hands." Sara finished, to which Greg chuckled with Nick.

"Well, I'm pulling a double tonight, I guess." The youngest CSI said after his pager beeped. "It's Brass, he's got a new suspect. He wants Nick, too."

"That's my cue." Nick said, and added. "See ya, Sara."

"Yeah." She responded, and gently laid a hand on Greg's arm before he left. "Get some sleep later, okay?"

Greg smiled slightly. It wasn't the usual 'are you okay?', and he appreciated that. "Only if you can find some good coffee." He responded, to which Sara shook her head and smiled. When she looked back up, he was gone.


	4. Chapter 4

"How do you know the Thompsons Mrs. Wilson?" Nick inquired, his arms folded on the table as the woman across from him crossed hers across her chest.

"They're my neighbors." She responded, shooting an annoyed glance at Greg, who sat next to Nick with a calm expression, his hands folded on the table. "I don't talk to them very much, but I can't say I dislike them, either. I know I don't allow my daughter to spend time with their children, but that's for good reason."

"And what's that reason?" Greg asked before he could stop himself. Nick gave him a look that told him that he shouldn't have any kind of tone to his questions.

"They're out of control is the reason! Running around, screaming, fighting with each other. I wouldn't allow my daughter to spend time with those misbehaved little--"

"Mrs. Wilson?" Nick interrupted her. "You may want to refrain from name calling, especially since those children and their father were murdered last night."

"Th-they were...what?" The woman's hand raised to her mouth as her eyes widened. "God...do you...do you know who did it?" She asked.

"We're investigating it now, but we were given a description of the possible suspect, and to be honest, you match it quite well. Blonde, about 5'7", thin build..."

"Are you _accusing me_?!" She was shocked and angered.

"No, we're just telling you that you match the descriptio--" Greg started.

"Well, that sounds like Sue-Ellen Thompson." Caroline Wilson interrupted. "And I can promise you that _I_ would never kill anyone. In fact, I was out that night, with my husband and daughter. She had a piano recital at her school."

"Is that so...would you care to give us the number of the school? To clear your alibi, of course."

"Absolutely." She responded without skipping a beat. Greg gave her a piece of paper to write it on. Soon enough, Brass came back and told them her alibi checked out. Nick nodded with a sigh, and Mrs. Wilson was free to go.

"Back to square one." Nick told Greg as they sat back in one of the rooms, evidence from the crime strewn across the backlit table.


	5. Chapter 5

"Her alibi cleared out." Nick spoke seemingly to no one as he entered the break room. A blonde head lifted from the tabletop and its owner groaned in annoyance. "So, I guess we really are...back at square one." He responded, and rubbed his neck. "I must have fallen asleep." He added, seeing his surroundings. He turned his body to look at his colleague, who was pouring himself some coffee. "Hey, is it any good today?"

Nick's spitting out the coffee into the sink answered his question. "Got it." Greg said, slightly disgusted as he stood up. When he started to make a new batch of what they so desperately needed to finish pulling this double shift, a sneezing fit ensued. "You okay, man?" Greg asked, slightly concerned.

"Yeah, yeah, Greggo...peachy." Nick answered before sneezing again.

"Maybe you should ask Catherine about that."

"Ask me about what?" A voice came from the door, and they turned to see none other than their red haired supervisor.

"Nicky here just had a Texas sized sneezing fit." Greg answered before his friend could answer.

"Did he?" Catherine raised an eyebrow, before furrowing her brow and walking closer to them. "No offense, Nicky, but you don't look so great." She put her hand to his forehead and shook her head. "You're burning up...go home, sleep it off, come back for shift when I call you, no earlier."

"C'mon, Catherine. I'm fine. I can wor--achoo!"

"After your Linda Blair impersonation before this shift, I dunno about that." Catherine shot back, hands on hips. "Now, go." She ordered, and then smiled, her expression softening for her friend. "And feel better, Nicky."

As soon as Nick left the room, Greg walked up to Catherine. "Um, Catherine?" He started. "I'm on kind of a big case, and with Nick gone...do you think you could get someone to cover for him?"

"Sure, Greg. How about Sara?" She asked as she looked at a paper that listed cases and the people on them.

"That sounds great. I'll go find her. Thanks again, Cath!" Greg called as he left the break room.


	6. Chapter 6

"Hey, Sar?!" Greg called as he entered the garage. He heard thump quickly accompanied by a groan of pain. His eyes widened and he ran to the source. "Sar, are you okay?" He asked, panicked.

An annoyed looking brunette CSI sat up, effectively out of her previous spot underneath the car. Standing up, she brushed herself off before rubbing her sore forehead. "What the hell, Greg?" She muttered.

"I'm so sorry, Sara." He quickly apologized. "Are you alright? Do you think you have a concussion? I'll go find Cath--"

"Greg, I'm fine." She emphasized, and shook her head slightly, holding back a smile. It was cute how worked up Greg could get, to tell the truth. "Now what was so important that you had to tell me?" She added as they walked away from the car and took seats on two overturned buckets.

"Well, the thing is, Nick's home sick...really bad, and Catherine decided to put you in for him on the Thompson case." Greg explained, his gaze dropping. "I may have suggested it, but it's a big case, Sar, a good one, and--"

"Sounds good to me." Sara interrupted him with a small smile.

"Yeah?" Greg glanced up at her, for validation.

"Duh." Sara finally smiled fully, and although he would have liked to deny it, Greg's heart couldn't help but jump a little at it. She stood up. "Now, what do we have to do?" She asked, and soon Greg was filling her in on all the case details. An hour later, they were digging through evidence.

"I think I found a partial..." Sara spoke, not looking up as she held a magnifying glass to a credit card. "Could have been the card of the person who purchased the accelerant. Be right back." She said the last part of her statement after looking up and walking to the door. Then, she ended up scanning the print and running it through AFIS. On the screen, it showed:

MATCH FOUND.


	7. Chapter 7

"Andrew Hillson, 43 years old." Sara read aloud as she sat the computer. "Previous charges of Assault, Kidnapping, and oh, look..."

"Arson." Greg finished for her, looking at the screen over her shoulder. Sara ignored the chill that went down her spine as his breath hit her neck. It was nothing, she thought absentmindedly. Basic reaction to temperature on a sensitive area of the body. Nothing. "Right." She agreed, and Greg didn't seem to notice her period of silence while she convinced herself that what she felt was normal and fine.

"So, if his print was on the trash can that we found the match box in, he may have been the one to start to fire." Greg reasoned as she walked away from the computer. "He lights a match after he kills the husband and kids, maybe with help from the wife, since she's missing...and then tosses the box, thinking that any evidence would have been burned away."

"Maybe." Sara shrugged, turning in the chair and standing. She pointed to some photographs on the evidence table. "There were some footprints outside the house, looking at these photos that Nick took. Size 11 shoe, which we can assume is Hillson's until we confirm, and a size 6 tennis shoe, womens'."

"The wife's?" Greg suggested.

Sara shook her head. "Sue-Ellen was apparently a size 9 shoe..." She informed him. "From all her shoes in her closet being 9's, there's no way she could fit into a size 6, much less a tennis shoe."

"...So where's the wife?" Greg wondered.

"Maybe Mr. Hillson can tell us." Sara told him.


	8. Chapter 8

"Mr. Hillson, it's not that difficult." Jim Brass explained, sitting across the table from the latest suspect in the case. Sara sat next to him while Greg stood, observing. The suspect squirmed slightly in his seat before giving them all a dirty look.

"Where is Sue-Ellen Thompson?" Sara asked seriously.

"How the hell would I know?" He responded, crossing his arms.

"Well, we found your prints, on something that helped in starting the fire that was...well, supposed to have covered up the evidence of the murdered family." Sara answered. "We also looked into your credit card receipts, and it looks like you purchased some matches..."

"Yeah, I smoke. I buy matches. So what?"

"We have reason to believe that you started the fire, with help from another woman."

"That bitch snitched on me?!" Hillson nearly stood up from his seat in anger. Sara raised an eyebrow and looked to Greg who looked at the suspect quizzically.

"That bitch?" Sara asked. "And who would that be? Did you kill her, Mr. Hillson?"

"Who? I don't even know that Sue or whatever--"

"You don't." Sara responded sarcastically, and pulled out a few papers. "We have records, that you went to dinner with her last week." She explained. "Can you tell us who was in the house with you...and where Sue-Ellen is?"

The suspect was obviously uncomfortable, and he shook his head disbelievingly. "I want a lawyer." He expressed. Sara raised an eyebrow and looked at Brass, who shrugged subtly and instructed the suspect to leave.

Before Andrew Hillson left the room, he glared at Sara, who glared right back. "Say hello to Sue for us." She said before she could help it.

"I don't think I can do that, Ms. Sidle."

"And why is that?" Sara asked, and Greg started getting closer to where they stood near the doorway. Jim had already left the room, as well as the officer.

As the suspect made a move that seemed to be violent toward his coworker, Greg stepped forward the pushed the other man slightly to keep him at bay and to protect her. In response, Hillson lunged in turn at Greg, pushing him into the wall. Not a second later, an officer was pulling him out of the room.

"Greg, what the hell?" Sara asked, immediately at his side. She was annoyed for multiple reasons. One, she was perfectly capable of protecting herself. Two, he could have gotten hurt.

"I'm fine." Greg answered her, and started to leave. He turned around. "Oh, and thanks for asking." He added with a shrug. After he left, Sara was touching his arm. "Greg, I--" He then turned back around with a small smile, which grew. "Chill, Sar. I was kidding, about that last part...I know you're annoyed for what I did, but I was just protecting you, you know? Like you'd do for me." He explained.

Now it was Sara's turn to smile as well. "Yeah." She agreed, and sighed. "We're good, then?" She asked. Greg grinned, and surprisingly pulled her into a hug. "Yeah, we're good." He told her as they broke apart.


	9. Chapter 9

Thank you to: .

GregsLabrat

name-me

Moochiecat

Nobody's Love

.

for your reviews! They keep me writing =] Thanks, and enjoy. Here's a longer chapter for you.

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Greg sat in the locker room, his hands resting together as his arms forearms rested lazily on his legs, his back hunched. He sighed, and rubbed his hands over his face as he held back a yawn. Shift was just about over, and he was happy that he would finally be getting some well deserved sleep. Sitting up straighter, he fiddled with his lock until the metal door could swing open as he deposited things and took things out, like the shirt that had gotten stained last week that he meant to wash, but never did.

At that moment, Sara decided to walk in. "You still haven't washed that?" She asked, and shook her head, opening her own locker. "Sorry to break it to you, Greg, but that stain? It's not coming out now."

"Goodbye, new shirt that I only wore once." Greg pretended to tell the inanimate object as he sadly stuffed it into his bag.

"You seem bummed about more than just the shirt." Sara observed as she pulled her jacket out of her locker.

"What do you mean?" Greg asked, now standing and pulling on his own jacket, his brow furrowed in an expression of confusion, but he knew what she meant fully.

"Is it the case?" Sara asked quietly, stepping closer to him, leaning against some closed lockers. Greg looked at her once again, and sighed, shaking his head. "I know...that it shouldn't affect me, but...that little girl, Sar. She...saw the whole thing. How does someone get over that?"

"It's hard, but it happens. She'll go to therapy, maybe learn from that, go to school, graduate, meet a guy, he'll understand it, and she'll be happy...maybe."

"I hope so..." Greg told her, and she put a comforting hand on his arm.

"Hey, Greg, do you want to get a drink? Talk?" She offered.

Greg kept from chuckling slightly. She would have been asking him out on a date if it weren't for the gold band on her left ring finger. "Sure, that sounds good." He replied.

"Great, I'll drive." Sara grinned, and walked out of the room, leaving Greg to chase after her and reminding her he never got to drive.

_at the bar..._

"You know, if I were like, 21, I'd probably be drinking like those kids over there." Greg said before taking a sip of his beer. Sara sat by his side, and turned to see a bunch of college kids throwing back shots.

"What, Greggo? Can't hold your tequila anymore?" Sara teased him with a smile.

"Of course I can." He responded. "Well, how much tequila are we talking about?" He added, which led them both to laugh at his request for verification.

_about an hour later..._

"Sara, we needacab." Greg spoke, slurring his last few words together unintentionally.

"I know." Sara replied, not nearly as drunk as he was, but still drunk. She called a cab and made sure to enunciate the address well. Soon, they were sitting in the cab as Greg told Sara a story of his childhood.

"...and it wasn't my fault that it blew up. The box said..." He was speaking when the cab pulled up to Greg's apartment. She glanced over at him, still babbling on, and decided he shouldn't be trying to get up the stairs in his building, alone, in his state. "C'mon, Greggo. I'm crashing on your couch tonight."

"Huh?" He asked, but still followed her after she paid the cab driver. "Whatd'youmean?" He asked, accompanied by a hiccup.

"Because you're just so cute when you're plastered." Sara told him, and then added seriously, "You and your stairs alone in the shape you're in? I don't want you to come into work tomorrow in a cast."

"Okay then." Greg agreed, and they went up to his apartment, Sara helping some of the way. When they had reached their destination, Sara was surprised as he unlocked and opened the door. His place was pretty nice. She thought for a moment about how Sofia had been here before more than she had, and ignored the feeling. She just went on a search for some blankets for the couch. Greg disappeared into his bedroom.

"Hey, Greg?" She called, and put down some blankets and a pillow she found in a closet while Greg emerged. He had changed into a t shirt and...his boxers. She ignored that, she had to. "I'll get some aspirin? For the hangover tomorrow." She smiled. Just as she was about to go to sleep in jeans and her tank top, Greg interrupted her, handing her an extra pair of boxer shorts and a t-shirt. More specifically, one she had gotten for him two years ago as a Christmas gift. "Greg..." She smiled, and added a 'thanks' before changing into them and coming back out with aspirin. He had gotten them each a bottled water and they sat on the couch for a moment.

"Why'd you make me drink so much tequila?" Greg asked Sara, who laughed in response.

"You're the one who challenged me, Greggo. Plus, I warned you I could drink you under the table." Sara responded, comfortably leaning her head on his shoulder as they sat side by side. She yawned as she looked over at him. He had fallen asleep. Smiling at his sleeping face, she moved slightly as he laid down. Going against her better judgement, she laid back down next to him. Soon, she too was asleep.


	10. Chapter 10

"Damn it." Greg swore as he looked at a piece of evidence. "All these prints are way too smudged to even be considered usable." He explained when Sara lifted her head to see what the problem was. She gave him an apologetic look before going back to analyzing her own evidence, a knife they had discovered in the eldest daughter's bedroom.

"Hey, did you get the autopsy reports back yet?" Sara asked Greg. He nodded. "Uh...yeah." He said as he walked around the table and obtained a folder, opening it. "Eldest daughter, Susan Thompson...named after her mother, I assume." He said, reading the name off of the document. "5 stab wounds: 2 to the neck, 2 to the chest, and one to the abdomen." He added, surveying the forms and photographs. "Defensive wounds, too." Sara added, and looked up. "She fought back."

"The second oldest was named Aaron." Sara told Greg. "He was stabbed once, in the neck. Maybe he was sleeping?" Greg nodded in agreement. "Probably." He said. "And then the second to youngest girl was just...smothered, it seems. Doc Robbins found fibers in her trachea, from the blanket on her bed."

Sara was the next to speak. "You said the youngest was still alive?" She asked, and Greg took a breath and nodded. "Yeah..." He told her, and shook his head. "She was...terrified." Sara nodded. "I'll bet." She added solemnly. Just then, her phone rang. It rang a few times before she even moved to acknowledge it.

"Um, Sara...your phone is ringing?" Greg informed her.

"I know, I just...how much time until we're off the clock?" Sara asked.

"Three minutes." He responded tiredly. Sara looked at the cell phone and picked it up, swiftly exiting the room to talk privately with whoever called her.

"Sidle." She answered automatically.

"Sara, it's Gil."

She stopped in her tracks. "Hey." She said. "Uh...what's up?"

"I just wanted to see how my...wife was."

Okay that was just awkward the way he said it. "Um, your wife is fine."

"Is she?"

"Oh. yeah. I'm working a good case, I'm getting along with Catherine, and I made Greg drink more tequila than he has in_ years_, I'm assuming." She smiled as she recalled the last one. It had been fun.

"Tequila?_ Greg_?" Grissom clarified.

"Yes." Sara said slowly, and frowned. "Is that a problem?"

"Well, I don't know. Is it?"

"Not really. I don't see how going for a drink or two with my friend is a_ problem_." Sara replied hotly.

"Sara, I know that you were never a very strong believer in commitment, but--"

"Grissom? _Don't_ finish that sentence." Sara warned him. "I can't believe you have the gall to accuse me of what.._.cheating_? If you believe that, then we have a problem. Do we?"

The line was silent. Gil Grissom, once again, did not know what to say to Sara Sidle.

"I guess we have a problem. Talk to you...some other time, Gil." Sara said angrily before hanging up and turning off her cell phone. She glared at the lockers.

"Sara?" A voice called. She turned to see Greg standing there. She sighed, rubbing her temple. She could feel a headache coming on. "Are you okay?" He asked her, and she shook her head. "Not really."

"Do you want to talk about it? I'm a good listener, remember?" Greg gave her a friendly smile as he sat on the bench near her. Sara turned and gave him a sad smile, before shaking her head with a frown. "I talked to Grissom."

"Oh." Greg said. He had overheard the conversation, but he didn't want her to know that. "What did he say? Is he visiting Vegas or something?"

Sara shook her head. "I hope not. To be honest, I'm not really happy with him right now." Greg frowned. He had never understood why Grissom and Sara had to get married or even date in the first place, but he had thought it made her happy. Now, seeing her upset, he wasn't happy either. "What happened?" Greg asked.

"We got into an argument." Sara said.

"About...the distance?" Greg guessed.

"Yeah." Sara lied. Greg knew it was a lie. "That makes sense." He said.

"It's just a lot for him." Sara added, as if it made her reason more well, reasonable.

"Yeah, I get it." He said. "Okay...well, I'm out. I'm going to watch a Star Wars movie on cable and then get some sleep."

"I've never seen that." Sara said, off-handedly. Greg, who had turned around, spun back. "What?" He asked, surprised. "You've never seen Star Wars?!"

"Is that a crime?" Asked Sara, who was in such a bad mood that even that sounded angry.

"Uh, no...but, it's a classic, and--" Greg started. He didn't want to make her more upset.

"I'm sorry Greg, it's just..." Sara started her sentence, but also didn't finish it.

"Maybe you could come watch it." Greg suggested.

"Greg, I don't know if that's a good idea."

"Why?" Greg asked.

Sara had to come up with an answer fast. "Um, because if you like it, it might be lame." _'Stupid!' _she thought, _'don't make him feel bad!' _

_"_Oh." Greg said, but Sara stopped him from completing his thought. "I was kidding. I'd love to watch it with you. Just...let me grab my coat. I'll meet you out there."

_A few hours later..._

"So...let me get this straight...Luke's father is..." Sara started, after the movie was over.

"Anakin Skywalker." Greg finished.

"You're such a liar! His father is...uh...Darth Vader, that's it!"

"Oh, yeah, that's his other name."

"Other name?" Sara raised an eyebrow. "Who is he, Clark Kent?"

"Yes, Sara. Yes, he is." Greg said in all seriousness before grinning.

"Whatever, loser." Sara smiled, and leaned her head on his shoulder. After some silence, Greg spoke. "Sara? I...might have heard what you said to Grissom earlier." She sat up, and frowned at him. "What?" She asked, annoyed. How dare he listen to her side of the conversation?

"I didn't mean to, honest." Greg said, raising his hands as if surrendering to the police. Sara rolled her eyes. "Uh-huh." He responded, and went to stand. Greg, not thinking, grabbed her hand. "Sara, wait."

"So that whole 'is it the distance' thing was a cover-up?" Sara asked.

"So that whole 'yeah' thing was a lie?" Greg countered, and then frowned slightly. "It's...wrong...that he would think that. it really is."

"Is it?" Sara asked. She wasn't so sure anymore.

"Yeah." Greg said. They sat back down on the couch. After some silence, Sara spoke. "What would you have guessed after 'distance'?" She asked.

"Uh, you don't want to know." Greg assured her.

"Yes, I do." Sara told him. "C'mon, tell me." She smiled a little, and poked his side. "C'mon, Greggo. Share."

"Sara--"

"Secret, secret, secret." Sara chanted quietly, poking his side. Greg laughed and then finally nodded. "O...kay...fine." He laughed, and then sighed. His smile went away. He sighed. "Honestly?"

"Honestly." Sara repeated.

"I would have thought...that..." Greg looked away from her. "I would have thought that he would be too busy with his work to spend time with you. I mean, if he had to pick people or bugs..." He didn't finish, but looked at Sara. She was angry. She stood up. "That's--" She started. Greg tried to say something, and took her hand again. She pulled it away roughly. "Fuck you, Greg." She shook her head and left. Greg just sat in shock. Had he just lost his best friend?


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: Thanks so much to reviewers! Tell me what you think, maybe suggest some ideas. Here's another chapter for you. Let's hope Greg is happier? Enjoy.

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"Sara, I think we should talk abou--" Greg started to say when he saw Sara the next night at work, but she gave him a look that shut him up faster than anything. She was really mad. Crestfallen at his failed attempt to resolve the problem, he started to work on the case. It went like that for an hours. An entire hour of silence. He could swear it was colder in the evidence room that anywhere else.

"Sara, Greg?" It was Catherine, standing in the doorway. "We've got a scene, a 419 around the same area as your case." She explained.

"And?" Sara asked coldly. Greg winced. He knew that cold tone was directed more so at him than their boss.

"And...we're understaffed today." Catherine responded, handing her the folder.

"Awesome." Sara stood up and went to the locker room to grab her vest and kit. Greg sighed. "I guess I'll put these pesky boxes of evidence away." He said to no one. And so he did.

---

"What took you so long?" Sara asked, annoyed as she sat in the car and started to drive before Greg had even closed the passenger side door.

"I had to put everything away." Greg explained. He buckled his seatbelt. After a number of minutes of silence, he spoke. "Sara, I really think we should talk--"

"Greg, stop."

"Sara--"

"Shut up, Greg."

"But--"

The car suddenly stopped as she pulled over. "Greg." She snapped. "We're on a case right now. Whatever you need to share can wait until later."

"Yeah, right." Greg shot right back. "You're just ignoring it, hoping it'll go away, well guess what?"

"Do you want me to report you to Catherine?" Sara threatened. "Because I will."

"You can't just ignore it, Sara." Greg tried to reason. "We need to talk no--"

Sara pulled out her phone, a physical threat that she'd actually report him.

Greg stayed silent. He set his jaw and turned his head away to look out the window. Sara immediately felt terrible, but started to drive again. She had seen the hurt in his eyes. The blatant disbelief that she would even think to betray their friendship like that. She wanted to apologize, smile and laugh about the whole thing, hug him; but she wouldn't. She had a job to do, and she already had enough on her personal problems plate.

Greg swallowed the emotions he had felt when Sara not once, but twice now, had hurt him. What happened to them? They used to laugh, enjoy the other's company. He used to tell her jokes and she'd tell him he was loser, but laugh with him.

They arrived at the scene, and as soon as they got into the house, they knew what this was. A homicide that was supposed to be covered up by an arson. Too bad the person didn't seem to be quick enough for the fire department. There had to still be evidence. Sara split from Greg as quickly as she could, heading up the stairs. She assumed he would stay on the first floor or join her upstairs. She neglected to mention that he should stay clear of the basement.

Greg walked down the stairs to the concrete encased basement. Looking around, he took out his flashlight. Setting his kit down, he started to dust for prints on some things: light switches, doorknobs, the railing. Pretty soon he had some decent prints. With a satisfied smile, he stood to put them away, but heard a loud noise. His heart jumped into his throat as he realized that he shouldn't be in the bottom level of an unstable building. It was collapsing, with him inside.

Sara heard the noise and immediately grabbed the partial print she had found, along with some samples of blood spatter and a can of soda that she had bagged. She ran outside of the house, directed by officers as far as necessary away from the now collapsing crime scene. After a few minutes, she noticed that she didn't see Greg on her way out. She looked around, frowning. Where was he? She started to panic.

"Greg?' She called, and she looked at the now rubble of a house. Her breath caught in her throat. Greg. The house. He could be... "Oh my god." She felt her legs give out underneath her. An officer caught her and brought her over to the paramedics, who had been on call in case of an emergency. There, she heard voices.

"How many fingers am I holding up?"

"Do I really have to answer that?" That voice was familiar.

"Sir..."

"Three." Sara turned to see Greg. He was covered in dust, but appeared to be fine. He had a cut to his temple, but other than that, he seemed unscathed.

"Greg, where the hell were you?" Sara asked him, ignoring the paramedic who wanted her to sit down.

"The basement." Greg responded. His voice was slightly hoarse. He had probably breathed in some dust. "I got some prints, but..."

"But...?" Sara repeated, urging him to continue.

"I had to leave them when I ran out." Greg finished, ashamed that he did so.

Sara shook her head and laughed bitterly. "You couldn't have grabbed them?" She asked angrily. Those could have been case breakers!

"Sara, I had to get out! The building collapsed!" Greg reminded her, upset that she hadn't even asked if he was alright, but went right into reprimanding him.

She, not wanting to deal with it, turned and started to walk away. Greg ran after her, ignoring the paramedic. "Sara, wait!" He called. She turned swiftly on her heel after he followed her for a minute. "I'm sorry!" He added when she was looking at him.

"How could you leave evidence?" Sara asked, not believing his ignorance in that case. Her panic from earlier mixed with the anger and made her sound like a bitch.

Greg shook his head. "How could you just jump right into screaming at me?" He countered. He wasn't going to be pushed around by her. No way.

"Because you lost evidence! Because our crime scene is gone!" Sara shouted, using her arms for emphasis.

"Well, I'm sorry that that happened, but I would have thought that you'd be more relieved here!" He was yelling now as well.

"Because you're alright? Greg, you chose to go into the basement! Who goes into the basement of an unstable house?!" She cried.

Greg fell silent. A moment later, he spoke. "You know, Grissom told me when I started out that if it came down to the evidence or safety...that you choose safety. There will always be more evidence."

It was Sara's turn to be silent. She felt like the biggest jerk in the world.

"Greg..." She said quietly and weakly. Had she lost him?

Greg continued. "But, I guess if Grissom had gone into the basement instead of me, we'd be having a different conversation."

"How could you--?"

"How could I what, Sara?" Greg asked, his voice quiet and weak. "It's the truth. Let's face it. When it comes to people, namely your friends...or me...you just...don't care." He turned and walked back to the car, tears stinging his eyes. He felt as if she had ripped out his heart and stomped on it. It was like she didn't even care about him. Sara had realized what had just happened, and bit her lip as she blinked back her own tears. "Greg!" She called, her voice breaking. He didn't turn back around.

"God...damnit." Sara muttered before letting the tears fall. Had she just lost her best friend?


	12. Chapter 12

((Sorry, this is a really short one. I'm exhausted, but wanted to update for you guys.

Also, if you're interested, I found an excellent CSI RPG.

check it out =] . http :// manhattanmanhunt. proboards. com/ index. cgi (without spaces)

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Greg walked into work the next night, upset. He hadn't talked to Sara since he had walked away from her at the crime scene, but who would expect him to? He could have been hurt or worse, and Sara had just reprimanded him for losing evidence. He had to admit he shouldn't have brought up Grissom, but it was the only ammo he had against her. To be honest, she was a huge weakness for him, and finding faults that he could use against her seemed to be difficult. But her seemingly rocky marriage? That was something he disliked, and could use.

Now that Nick was back from his sick days, he and Greg were sitting in one of layout rooms, poring over pieces of evidence that Sara collected. As Nick looked over the chain of custody, Greg and he had a conversation.

"So...she really got pissed at you?" Nick asked.

Greg nodded, frowning. "Yeah."

"But you could have been killed." He was surprised that Sara would act like that, especially towards Greg.

"Apparently something she doesn't care about." He mumbled sadly, and Nick walked over to his friend, turning him around.

"Greg, I don't want to hear that tone in your voice." Nick told him.

"What tone?" Greg asked, although he knew. It was almost a 'I want to go die in a hole', depressed tone of voice.

"She cares, man...she's just confused...I mean, she just got back--"

"Well, maybe I wish she hadn't!" Greg shouted.

Nick frowned. "Is that the truth?"

But that had been all that Sara had heard before she ran to the bathroom, making sure not to let her tears fall until she knew it was empty.


	13. AN

Author's Note:

Sorry for not writing. I've been ridiculously busy. I don't want to go on a hiatus, but I might have to. Again, I'm sorry. This story will be finished, though. There's a lot more to come, the plot is all in my head, and the conflict between Greg and Sara is not even the start of it all.

Thanks for reading and reviewing : )

-Kimberly


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